


Her Lover

by ODeorainFan2150



Series: Tales from the Lonely Sphere [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Description of skinning animals, F/M, Fantasy, Hunters & Hunting, Mild Gore, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:55:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26605603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ODeorainFan2150/pseuds/ODeorainFan2150
Summary: A human hunter heads out into the wilds - but it is not a simple beast she is looking forward to finding.Part of the The Lonely Sphere, a custom science-fantasy setting.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: Tales from the Lonely Sphere [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809730
Kudos: 3





	Her Lover

As agreed, she waited for him under the full moon. The first snows of winter were sweeping the mountains, but she had trekked up there in the midst of a blizzard one year so a few gently blowing flakes didn't bother her. Telling her kin she'd gone for one final hunt of the season, she had shouldered her equipment and trekked through the woods until she found the ancient elven temple.

Using the gestures he had taught her, she unlocked the hidden door, the white runes coming to light as the stone began to move aside, ancient mechanisms still perfectly functional despite millennia of neglect. It had been in these very ruins, ruins she had avoided since she was a girl, where she had encountered him. Spotting an open door in what had once seemed to be immovable stone, and desperate to get out of a raging blizzard, she found herself in a room that glittered with hovering lights, strange glowing runes on the walls around her. Snow had drifted inside, blowing over the intricately detailed floor, pooling in the groves that had been chiselled into the floor. Around the walls, white stone statues of elves towered over her. Some in robes, some in armour, all glaring down from their haughty heights.

That first time, he'd almost surprised her when she entered, a black form with a shining blade, segmented armour covered in sharp points the colour of lacquered midnight. He was tall, taller even than her own frame that towered over the rest of her kin. But where she was muscle and brawn, built from years of carrying game back to the village, he was slender under the armour. That said, based on the sensation of his bare fist against her side, he was much stronger than he looked, only her light armour blocking the brunt of the pain as it felt like a hammer had made the blow. Yet he was agile and fast too, dodging out of the way when she drew her blade from her side. Several times, she almost had him, blade glancing off his insect-like armoured carapace before he flowed away, moving like liquid, the glowing green slits keeping locked on her.

In fact, that first strike would have killed her if she was any other human, rather than sliding down the white stone wall. Only the voice in her head, the little warning she had found useful in avoiding predators or finding prey, managed to alert her, letting her slip under the shining sword. But now, she was struggling, frantically trying to focus on the glittering sword and the dark shape in front of it as well as what was coming next. The knowledge that foresight she had could only do so much. She didn't predict the fist coming in from the left, the blow knocking her out and sending her sprawling onto the cold floor below

* * *

She'd woken up in the entranceway where she now stood, lying under a fur blanket, her armour removed and a roaring fire close by. Her attacker was sat opposite her, perched on a rock, placing pieces of fresh meat into a bubbling stew pot before replacing the lid. His eyes met hers as he pulled a piece of the raw bleeding flesh away, putting it between his teeth as he smiled back it at her.

Her first instinct was to flee, to run, to get away from the smiling creature. There was a smoothness to his movements that was unnerving, eyes that promised pain and bloodshed and violence, a trail of sharp and black markings running across that frighteningly pale skin. That wasn't even mentioning the tales she'd been told about these 'Dark Elves'. About the tales of them eating babies or flaying flesh for fun, about how they would enslave you and take them to their dark fortress to be their plaything.

However, she didn't move. She simply lay there watching as he finished chewing, a few drops of blood leaving his lips that he wiped away with the back of his wrist. There was a certain appeal to him; He'd removed his helmet and the top half of his strange and segmented armour, revealing a sharp face and pale skin that seemed to glow in the cavern's light. A thin black material seemed to wrap tightly around his body and through it, she could see the shape, see how sculpted it was, like a classical statue that sat in the chapel down in the village. And far from being horrifying markings, the black tattoos across his flesh seemed to wrap around his shapely neck, in a way that made her want to follow them, to see what they would be like over his back and chest. 

When he spoke, his voice had a strange quality to it, a sort of vibration that ran through her flesh, almost keeping her attention with the sensation. His words were not cruel either - he asked after her health, wanted to make sure she wasn't too cold from being in the blizzard. He actually thanked her for the rabbits and she could barely bring herself to be angry at him for taking both of them, especially when he provided her with some of the stew he put them into. When he came close to check her face, the fingers that touched her were careful, appearing almost delicate but with a carefully controlled power behind them.

He said he was a noble Dru'chii, a member of a Kabal and that there was a camp close by hidden in the woods that his group were using between their raids. He explained how he had come to investigate this ruin, inspect its ancient carvings. He hadn't expected find any humans (or d'hoinne as he called them) this far from the town, especially not one with, as he called it, "the gift". He'd seemed almost excited about it, moving closer to her as he talked about the possibilities, eventually sitting on her blanket as with a simple thought he plucked embers from the fire with a flick of his wrist before letting them float in the air before them. There was a sweet smell to him, she noticed, as he sat there - a delicate perfume surrounded that delighted her senses, especially as she leaned against him, trying to steady herself after trying some of the techniques he showed her.

When she left the following morning, he promised to meet her again.

* * *

She lit the fire with one of his gifts, rubbing the two pieces of metal against each other until a spark ignited the kindling she had brought with her. He liked to give her these gifts, trinkets he called them, even though they were unlike anything else. The firesticks, a dagger with a sharp edge that never seemed to blunt or snap. He didn't bring her anything purely decorative - he'd smiled when she'd pointed this out, asking why he'd diminish her beauty by surrounding it with mere stones. He liked to play with the silver sun on a chain hung around her neck when he explained this, his fingers touching it as gently as it rang down her back.

His finest gift to her was her bow. Before, she had hunted with an old hunting firearm, it's worn stock covered in scratchings and carvings but it's mechanics were perfectly maintained as if it had just rolled out of a Machina-City's assembly line. He had merely smiled at it, lifting it like a toy and sneering at the mechanics of it, describing it as "unsuitable for a hunter of her skill". His gift was a beautiful thing to behold - made of lychstone, a black material that reminded her of the temple's interior. It curved naturally as if it had been grown in this shape rather than carved like any other. The first time she picked it up, it felt wrong - out of balance, shifting with every movement as if filled with mercury. But, as he said, she just needed to concentrate on it, feel the bow, let her father's teachings return, let her gift reach out and touch the creation. The feel of his hands around her's directed it and suddenly it seemed to spring to life, becoming still. Through focusing on it, she found she could better aim her shots, better guess where the arrow would fly, where best to hit. It had received some strange looks when she took it back to her kin, but her father couldn't complain about its effectiveness when she dragged a pair of moose back alongside it.

The most personal gift, however, was the markings that ran across her back. Intricate black lines, forming vines and runes, blades and arrows. At first, he had only painted one on, a single rune that he said would protect her if other creatures like him had found her. She tried to hide it at first, not wanting to draw attention when she was back among her kin. It was her own little secret, something she'd admire in her tiny mirror back in the village, looking over her shoulder. But, the more she saw him, the more he asked to add. His own body was covered in markings, markings she had run a finger over when they had slept together under the furs he had brought, him smiling. And so she told him her own story, her own tales. He took his time, over several visits to the ruins, but he etched her back. She liked the calm, the feel of his breath on her back, the sharp pain tempered by the gentle feel of those lips on her warm skin.

* * *

Taking her time, she began to skin the rabbits she had caught, her knife working quickly to remove the sinew and break it down into meat. As she slit the creature's throat to let it drain (placing it a piece of stone that he had showed her, the blood dripping onto a patch of bronze on the floor), she froze looking down at the way it stained the snow that had drifted in.

She had always had people trying to claim her for their own. Her father had made it very clear to the boys in the village that she was to make her own choices, but that didn't stop a few attempting to assert their will over a woman like they would with any other. One, Karl, was a lumberjack and a notorious one for such behaviour with the ladies. He tried it on with her once during a harvest festival, promising to be more man than even she could handle, his finger pressing in on her chest. She had pulled the offending finger out of its socket and slammed a fist into his stomach

The following day, she'd begun her trek out, following a few trails she knew the elk to use. As she dragged her sled, her bow hung over her back, she began to hear the sounds of someone huffing and puffing, the smell of booze pouring out through the trees. Closing her eyes, she reached out like he had told her, and could feel the presence of someone stumbling around, following her trail, a feeling of rage among it. It was obviously Karl, look to express his feelings somewhere more private. Opening her eyes she turned, placing her sled and moving slowly across the snow.

As she got closer though she heard raised voices, the bellowing of Karl with a slur of the booze to him. Shouting something about respect and showing the "bitch a lesson". And then the more cultured tongue of the Dark Elves, spitting out the language of the D'hoinne. She watched as he circled Karl, his sword still at his side, his cloak flowing in the breeze. Karl was snarling back, spitting like a dog, swaying back and forth. But her elf just smiled at him.

She didn't see the strike. One moment Karl was intact, the next a slit ran from his brow to his pelvis. The human began to slump forward, his entrails begin to fall, but her elf stepped forward to catching, the blade on his wrist beginning to retract. As she watched, he carefully stroked Karl's head, whispering something into his ear that drifted across the snow.

"The girl isn't yours to claim, _mon'keigh_." he'd hissed. "She's mine."

What happened next should have horrified her, but she couldn't help but watch as he began to turn the corpse. With Karl on the ground, the Elf pulled a knife and began to work. She had skinned a mighty elk before but watching how he prepared the corpse of what had once been a man was like poetry. He set aside the heart and eyes, gifts for his gods as he had once said about the deer he had killed. The brain he discarded, not wishing to pollute himself with the thoughts of a lesser creature. She watched as he tasted a strip of flesh, seeing his eyes close in an expression of relish as licked the blood from his long fingers. It was like seeing a monster wearing the former of the creature that had taken care of her, a monster that would think nothing of eating another human-like she was just another animal.

Except that was a lie. The look in his eye when she walked over to him, the change from the ferocious beast to the tender, smart creature that had warmed her bed. She reached out a gloved hand and he put his face into the leather, letting her feel the sharp bones of his face.

"I could have handled him" she remembered saying and the dark elf just hummed.

"Of that I have no doubt," he answered, "But there was no need to waste such emotion on this mongrel..." He turned to look up at her. "He'll be more useful now."

* * *

When she had returned to her village, the trackers had already gone searching for Karl. They didn't search for long - the high mountains were home to many deadly predators, from the mountain lions to the monstrous cave bears that could kill a horse in a single swipe. It was assumed Karl had merely stumbled into something far more dangerous and vicious than he.

As she lay there in her bed that night, missing the warmth of her lover's body against her chest, she realised that they were right. 

* * *

The fire was little more than embers when she awoke. For a little while, she simply lay there, staring into the flames, enjoying the glow.

And then she felt the arm pull her closer, the warm breath across her neck as a sharp boned face moved to rest there.

"What awoke you my d'hoinne?" the dark elf whispered to her, his hand gently running down her stomach, feeling the muscles move and shift beneath her skin. She enjoyed the tender touches from a creature as strong as he.

"Nothing my lover," She answered, her hand sneaking under the blanket to rest against his firm backside. She felt him move closer. "Nothing at all."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still writing fan fiction (the next part for Polynucleosis is coming soon) but I'm also writing a lot more fiction set in The Lonely Sphere, a custom science-fantasy setting built as our own talk on various other pieces of fiction we love.
> 
> If you want to read more of my stuff, including some that isn't posted on AO3, I have a site at http://thelonelysphere.com/
> 
> Thanks again to Dilara_CC for reading my work and helping me create this wonderful world.


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